


Self-Inserted

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Piping Hot Virgini-tea [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Albeit A Porny One, Ben Apparently Wants To Make Rey Meow, Ben Has A Fantastic Imagination, Ben Writes Secret Erotica, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Friend Fiction, Friend Fiction Rey May Not Be Human, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Rey Wasn’t Supposed To Find It, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-05-19 07:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19352071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: None of it makes sense.He hates her. He barelylookedat her for the four years they went to high school together, and yet, judging by this book— he apparently had no problem using her as the central focus of any perverted fantasy that popped into his head. What’s worse, hewrote themdown.There areyears’worth of stories in this book, and she already knows that with the three days she has left in this house…...she’s going to read every single one.In which Rey finds out in a very strange way that Ben Solo doesn’t dislike her as much as she first thought.





	1. Proverbial Binoculars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeeno2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/gifts).



> Because Jeeno is one of the most incredible humans and deserves all the silly porn in the world. <3
> 
> Thanks (and curses) to [Reylo Fic Prompts](https://twitter.com/reylo_prompts) on Twitter for posting so many amazing prompts!
> 
> Anon Prompt: “High school or college AU. Rey’s best friend, Ben, goes on a trip with his parents and Leia asks Rey to housesit. She agrees, but she wasn’t expecting to find love notes to her in Ben’s room, nor the erotic ‘friend fiction’.”.”
> 
> I changed the friend angle to enemies because, well... I love it. 😂

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest chapter I’ve ever posted to AO3– I know it’s not very long but I just needed a ridiculous intro. 😂❤️ More of Ben’s noble work to come.

* * *

 

She shouldn’t be doing this.

She should turn around, go back to the living room, and not think about this room again.

But still… this is _Ben Solo’s_ bedroom. A room she never dreamed she’d see. A room belonging to the boy she’d spent most of her senior year being hopelessly hung up on.

…a boy who, to this day, likes to pretend she doesn't exist.

It’s funny how even now, moving into her second semester of her freshman year at Alderaan State— that memory still stings.

But never mind that.

When Leia asked her stepmom, Maz, if Rey would mind house sitting while they visited Ben’s grandparents in Colorado— Rey hadn’t hesitated. She isn’t even sure _why._ It’s not like she’s still… hung up on Ben.

Mostly.

Maybe she just wanted a chance to understand him better. It’s insane to her that she lived next door to him for nearly two years but barely knows anything about him— except for the fact that he can’t seem to stand her, that is.

Okay, maybe she’s still... a little hung up.

It’s not her fault he’s ridiculously tall with hair that should be criminal and that _mouth_ of his— regardless. It’s entirely unfair and Rey will not be held accountable.

But what she’s considering now… borders on creepy. She’s fully aware of that. Entertaining the idea of snooping through his room while he’s _unaware_ … not her most shining of moments.

 _It’s just a peek,_ she tells herself. _Just a quick look around, and then you’ll go back downstairs and pretend it never happened._

Right.

She pushes open his door cautiously— almost as if she’s afraid he’ll jump out of the closet to scold her. Ridiculous, as scolding her would mean actually _speaking_ to her— something Ben can never be bothered to do. Even now, around campus, he can barely even spare her a glance.

Ben’s childhood room is… much neater than hers is. Neater than any room she’s ever _seen,_ really. Every little thing seems to have its own place, and she feels as if she’s upsetting the room just by standing in it.

There is a shelf lined with various awards and trophies that she shuffles over to study— grinning at a _Chess Club_ here and a _Debate Club_ there.

There hadn’t really been an available club that Ben wasn’t a part of.  

She lets her fingers brush against a framed picture of Ben and his parents around a half-pitched tent— Han scratching at his hair and smiling into the camera as Ben looks down at the fiasco grumpily with a bucket hat lodged over his hair, making his ears stick out a little.

It should be ridiculous— but it sort of makes her heart hurt.

She’s never quite been able to pinpoint what it is about her that makes Ben dislike her. She’s been nothing but friendly since she moved here. Being placed in Maz’s care would turn out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to her— but living next door to Ben Solo would turn out to be the worst.

It didn’t help that Maz is insanely close to Han and Leia— and that Rey had been forced to attend every dinner, every barbecue, every odd-ended party that they could dream up— having to endure Ben ignoring her not only at school but _outside_ of it as well.

She just wishes she knew _why._

She sighs as she moves to his desk— taking into account the neat row of books near his computer. She wonders if she thinks she’ll find some clue in here. Some insight into his mind. 

Maybe the truth is simpler.

Maybe there isn’t any real reason.

God, what is she _doing_ in here? She’s such a creep.

She turns on her heel with every intention of leaving— stilling for a moment as she lets her eyes rake over his well-made bed. Somehow it just seems so _Ben._

His wardrobe rarely deviates from your standard black or grey— so it comes as no surprise that his bedding follows this color scheme as well.

She chews on her lip a little— knowing this is the _pinnacle_ of creep— but what the hell. While she’s here…

She flops onto his comforter— pressing her cheek into his pillow. If she breathes deep, she can catch the lingering scent of his shampoo. Yes, it’s sad, she knows that, but she spent over a year (just a year— she is _not_ still hung up on him) pining after this jerk and he owes her a consolatory pillow sniff, damnit.

She takes another deep breath for good measure.

 _Okay,_ she chides herself. _Enough with the stalker routine. Get out of this room and go back to minding your own business._

She heaves out a sigh as she sits upright— pushing off the bed only to notice she’s severely mucked up the covers with her acrobatic landing. She frowns as she reaches to tuck the edges of the comforter back under the mattress like they’d been before— pushing the fabric back into a neat line underneath just the way she found it.

Her hand meets something hard near the head of the mattress, and she furrows her brow in confusion. Her fingers close around a thick weight, and she pulls out a leather-bound book that looks like some sort of journal.

 _Oh no,_ she immediately scolds herself. _Don’t you dare. You will not read Ben’s diary. You’ve already exhibited some Joe Goldberg level behavior here. You will_ not _peek at this. No. Not a chance._

She sits on the bed slowly— running her hand over the cover and letting her fingers toy with the leather flap that keeps it shut. She works at her lip nervously, _knowing_ she should put it back.

 _But no one will ever know,_ a more devious voice whispers. _Just a quick peek won’t hurt._

She glances around as if there is _actually_ someone to catch her doing this, finally working the flap through its clasp and running her fingers along the edges of the pages.

She isn’t sure what is the proper place to _start_ when grossly invading someone’s privacy— finally deciding on cracking it open to a random point in the middle and letting it fall flat to read.

 _Just a peek,_ she promises. _Then I’m hanging up my proverbial binoculars. Scout’s Honor._

She opens the book to read, quickly finding out that she’s about to get _a lot_ more than she bargained for.

Rey slams the book shut— mouth hanging open as she lets it rest in her lap. She feels… dazed. Trying to wrap her head around the fact that Ben wrote this. That Ben wrote this about _her._

She steels herself as she does a quick flip through the book— confirming what seems to be an entire _book’s worth_ of erotic and strange short stories about her and Ben from his point of view.

None of it makes sense.

He hates her. He barely _looked_ at her for the four years they went to high school together, and yet, judging by this book— he apparently had no problem using her as the central focus of any perverted fantasy that popped into his head. What’s worse, he _wrote them down._

There are _years_ worth of stories in this book.

She glances down at the salacious secret resting in her hands— knowing she should put it back. That she should pretend she never even found it. Hiding it away under his mattress surely means that he didn’t want anyone to find it… right?

But she’s not going to do that.

She already knows that with the three days she has left in this house…

...she’s going to read every single one.


	2. Primary Stalker Objective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [Reylo Fic Prompts](https://twitter.com/reylo_prompts):
> 
> (Bonus Points if she leaves notes in the margins of his erotic friend fiction)
> 
> Y’all didn’t think I was going to pass that up, did you?

Having a front row seat to the extensive exploration of a teenage boy’s sexual awakening is… an experience.

In the beginning— it’s almost as if Ben had been thoroughly self-aware that what he was doing was a little crazy. His works were a little more… _reserved._ It had taken her most of the day prior, to work through these more softcore works— and she had to admit that as far as porn goes, they were a little… sweet?

She isn’t sure at what point in his life page thirty-seven was penned… but it was around this time that Ben really— how should she put this— hit his stride?

Gone are the euphemisms and blatant avoidance of any direct referencing to either his or her genitals— and in its place is the fun-loving hentai kitty insanity that she’d stumbled onto when she first cracked open the book.

This is only day two of her three day porn binge.

It is also around page thirty-seven that Rey decides that she can’t really refrain from voicing— or rather, _penning—_ her opinions. And why shouldn’t she? When you find out that the boy you’ve pined after for so long would rather come home and write about you with candle wax and tentacles (she’s not even going to touch that one) rather than just _speak to you—_ well.

Rey thinks she’s justified in wanting to be involved. Maybe jot down a few suggestions or corrections. For authenticity’s sake, of course.

The problem is… once she starts, she can’t seem to stop. She imagines this is a much pornier version of how the early explorers must have felt when they got to the ends of the Earth only to discover that it is in fact _round._ Except in this case— the roundness seems to be exclusively limited to her ass or tits.

God, Ben is… _obsessed_ with her tits. He mentions them on every other page. She guesses this explains why he could never make eye contact— he was preoccupied with other points of vision.

Pretty standard for porn, to be fair, but there’s just a couple little things that bother her...

She can’t help but be proud of the little dig here.

It’s around page fifty-three that Ben starts to delve into some of his childhood memories for inspiration, and Rey can’t help but be a little impressed by his ability to turn the most innocent things into a porn scenario.

After the cat shenanigans, she’s a little surprised Little Red Riding Rey doesn’t have a tail or something in this story. She read it twice just to be sure. Not because she is still imagining what Ben might look like in lumberjack plaid. Not at all.

She squirms a little as she lets this particular gem of erotica linger in her mind. She’s not… _affected_ by this nonsense or anything. She’s not completely naive. She’s seen porn.

Still… there’s something about reading it in the handwriting of the boy who was the sole object of _her_ brief sexual fantasies that is…  not unpleasant.

But she’s not turned or anything.

That would be ridiculous.

She lets the book rest against her lap as she idly chews on the end of a celery stick (seriously, the Solos need better snacks)— letting her mind wander.

_Does Ben even own plaid?_

No. _No._ She’s not going to check. Stick to the primary stalker objective here. There is porn to be sifted through.

She glances down at the next page, heaving out a sigh. How many children’s stories did this boy taint?

He obviously missed out on an opportunity on his favorite smut element here.

She’s still giggling when she turns the page, only to groan aloud as she rubs her hands down her face and scribbles in another note.

She has to skip the next story— not finding it in her to take on _Reypunzel_ as she is mildly terrified of how Ben might have handled the hair situation.

She gives a little shudder as she decides maybe she should start skipping around a little. Get some variety. Ben seems to go on these little kicks periodically and as he churns out these little dirty drabbles of similar theme until he burns out (or jerks out) and moves on to the next.

She does a quick flip further into the book— stopping at a random page to check out what masterpiece awaits her here.

Oh. _Oh._ That’s… something.

Apparently Ben has a bit of a kinky side. She furrows her brow for a moment as she genuinely imagines looking him in the eye and calling him Daddy.

She immediately bursts into a fit of giggles.

Although… if there were anyone she might give it a whirl for…

 _No,_ she brushes away as she begins to leaf through the book again. _Definitely not._

Which brings her to Ben’s random bouts of cliched porn. These are actually not half bad, and Rey wonders if they’re based on any actual titles. Surely not anything she’d have seen— since most of these tropes seemed to have walked off a screen in bell bottoms and platform shoes.

She can’t help but snort.

Although, she has to give him props for a good use of a package pun. That one did make her giggle a little. She doesn’t think she has it in her to let Ben know she’s never owned a see-through bra in her entire life. Those things are itchy as hell.

Seriously, come on, Ben. Get with this decade. 

She _does_ briefly consider leaving a cute note that she’s currently _in his bed_ not wearing a bra _at all—_ but based on the literature here she is afraid she might actually send Ben into some sort of cardiac arrest.

Tempting, though.

She lingers in the porn trope section for a while longer — stuck between giggling and pressing her legs together, because the writing here isn’t all that bad.

Fucking _hell_ does he have a fetish for itty bitty titties? He’s giving her a damned complex here.

Even though she’s giggling a little, this _is_ his best work so far. Admittedly.

Okay, well… that’s familiar. Obviously she wasn’t the only one who spent their senior year frustrated. She decides to throw him a bit of a bone.

She skims over it again. Okay, so it isn’t that _good_ either— but read enough porn for this long and _anyone_ would be a little hot and bothered. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that Ben wrote this. Not at all. 

...she quickly flips to another section, deciding she has time for one more today. 

 _Okay_ , she thinks with a laugh. _He definitely ripped this one off of a movie._

She scratches in a few notes before leaning back to admire her handiwork.

She does a quick flip through— realizing there’s still a decent portion left.

 _Tomorrow,_ she tells herself. _Save it for tomorrow._

There’s only so much porn a person can take in a day. 

* * *

By the third day— knowing the Solos will return the day after and that both she and Ben will be back on campus the following Monday, she’s a little relieved  when she realizes the content is finally beginning to dwindle.

Even if she’s almost a little… sad about it.

As weird as this whole thing is, it’s the closest she’s ever felt to Ben Solo— and a part of her is afraid that even knowing he’s attracted to her won’t change anything. Surely, if he wanted to act on it, he would’ve done so by now.

What’s worse, what if he just wants to _fuck_ her?

What if there’s nothing about her that interests him but her tits and her ass and her face?

She holds the book in her lap for several moments as she considers this, finally huffing out a sigh through her nostrils.

“Whatever,” she tells the air. “At least I got to doodle in his dirty dream journal.”

She tries not to let her bitter mood deter her from her mission.

On a whim she flips to the latest entry— curious as to what the _current_ Ben Solo finds his jollies from, but a quick scan of the opening scene alerts her that this is nothing like what she’s read so far.

There’s no ears, or kinks, or ( _heaven forbid)_ tentacles, it’s just… them. She knows this entire business of sifting through Ben’s erotica is _more_ than personal— but this… this feels _intimate._

It’s almost hard to get through.

She can’t read anymore. It’s not a stretch to think Ben might have feelings for her after having shown such dedication to the idea of her in such a… colorful way. However, seeing it like this… _in his own hand—_ suddenly it’s all very real.

She thinks back to the last time she saw him.

It had to be at least two weeks ago now— just before the start of winter break. She’d been just outside the library to return the stack of books she’d checked out for midterms, and Ben had opened the door just as she’d moved to grab for it.

She remembers smiling at him, offering her thanks as she lingered for a moment, and instead of tossing back a _you’re welcome—_ something that people do for people they don’t even _like_ — he’d given her a curt nod and a hard look and then he was just... gone. Brushing past her and out into the cold as if he couldn’t put distance between them fast enough.

She can’t seem to reconcile _that_ Ben with the one who thinks she’s beautiful and thinks about her naked and whispers _I love you_ in the porniest recesses of his mind.

She closes her eyes and imagines Ben in the room. _This room._ Saying these things to her. Touching her like he so obviously wants to.

She imagines those large hands she’s spent far too many stolen moments watching twirl a pen, turn a page— whatever else she can steal away within the confines of their few shared classes.

It’s not too much to imagine those same hands moving over her belly, ghosting up her neck, pressing between her thighs to—

Shit.

Okay, maybe she’s… affected. Maybe she’s… _very affected._

She considers fighting it— but then she remembers she’s practically trespassing in her emotionally stunted dumbass of a crush’s bedroom, reading his self-insert porn without his knowledge.

This is probably the least weird thing she could indulge in.

She’s grateful for the comfortable sweats she’d chosen that morning— making it easy to slip her fingers under the waistband. She pushes underneath the band of her underwear hastily, finding herself slick already _(no surprise there, not with the pornapalooza she’s been engaging in)_ and slipping two fingers between her folds as she closes her eyes.

In her mind— there are no tails, or jazzy music, or bad dialogue either.

In her mind, it’s just them.

She imagines his large body settling over her as she presses two fingers deep inside— not quite filling herself the way she knows he would. Imagining other parts of him that would fill her even better.

She works in and out of herself slowly, allowing herself the fantasy of Ben’s voice in her ear. Telling her all the places he’d like to touch her. Telling her all the things he’d like to do to her. 

He wants to do _so many_ things, after all.

She can almost imagine his hands on her tits ( _they’re not that little, damnit)—_ kneading and teasing her to a point where she’s gasping for it. She pinches her own nipple for good measure— moaning a little as she slides her fingers up to the swollen bud of her clit and begins to rub heavy circles into it.

She arches as she picks up the pace— pretending he’s watching her. Pretending he’s encouraging her to _go faster_ and praising her with _just like that_ and begging her to _come for me, Rey._

It’s enough to get her there.

She can feel it coming as she frantically swipes at the sensitive nub— replaying an imagined _I love you_ in Ben’s deep timbre over and over and _over._

It’s right there— her body wound tight like a string, her back arched as her mouth falls open and just a little more— only a _tiny bit more_ and she will. 

She shakes all over as her orgasm rocks through her— building from the tips of her toes to tingle up through her body like a heavy blanket of sated goodness, and she allows herself to melt into his comforter after as she comes down from the high of it all. 

It’s just like that, staring at his ceiling and lying in his bed, that the ignorant curse of emotion creeps in.

Ben could have saved her years of heartache. He could have opened his big, dumb mouth and saved her a world of disappointment.

_But instead he did this._

She glances at the open journal with narrowed eyes— feeling a little jealous of it. It got all the parts of him she never even got the chance to see. She could have tolerated the tentacle nonsense if he’d just given her a chance. Maybe.

She sits up slowly, pulling the open book back into her lap and staring down at the too-raw entry with a wistful expression. Picking up her pen, she quickly jots down the only note that comes to mind.

She moves to stand, taking the book with her and giving it one last long look. She feels a surge of satisfaction as she adds one last tidbit before leaving the book open-faced on top of his comforter and walking out of his bedroom.

She closes the door behind her, having no plans to enter it again before the Solos come back tomorrow. She plans to return to campus tonight. Maz can give them back their key.

She imagines Ben will need the weekend to process everything that _she now knows,_ but when he gets back to Alderaan Sunday, she imagines they’ll have a lot to talk about.

For once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what Ben will think of all this? 🙃


	3. Reyrotica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... so much loss of virginity. So much _awkward_ loss of virginity. I hope this is hot. It’s _definitely_ ridiculous. It’s also twice as long as the entire fic so far. 😂❤️

Her first night back on campus was… a bit of an emotional rollercoaster.

After the high of finding the jolly journal had worn off a little— the panic of _Ben Solo wrote porn about me and now he’ll know that I know_ began to settle deep.

What the fuck had possessed her to leave _notes?_

She could have just read the damned thing, used the information to her advantage, and wooed the damned weirdo she’s been crazy about for God knows how long, and that would have been that.

But no.

She had to have her aha moment. Her last laugh.

_She told him she touched herself in his bed._

Fucking _hell_ . It had felt so satisfying at the time. It really had. All that time she’d spent watching him and wondering why he didn’t like her… for a moment it had just felt so _good_ to take a little bit of reparation for herself.

But that was two days ago.

Ben will be back on campus today. She’s sure of it.

She thought maybe he’d call. He could get her number after all— Leia would surely give it to him— but nothing.

Complete and utter silence.

It’s left her a nervous wreck.

She’s pacing around her dorm— running her fingers through her hair and practicing what she might say if she could somehow work up the nerve to call _him._

How do you apologize for reading someone’s ridiculous porn? How do you apologize for reading _so_ much of it?

She comes up blank every time.

So it is to her complete surprise, that just after four in the afternoon, a fairly _frantic_ round of knocking ensues at her door. She eyes it curiously for a moment, knowing Finn and Rose won’t be back until tomorrow— moving across her room to wrench the door open.

For a moment she can only stare at him.

He’s standing there in a black sweater that hugs his stupidly large arms far too well— his mouth turned down in a frown and his eyes hard. When he holds up the all too familiar leather book vehemently— she feels her eyes widen in surprise.

He opens his mouth, and she realizes this is the first time he’ll have sought _her_ out to speak to her. She thinks that’s something— until the words actually come.

“You went through my _things.”_

This throws her off for a second. That’s what he’s angry about? And he does look… a little angry. Is he chiding her for invading his privacy? Overstepping? She can’t help it.

She outright laughs.

This is apparently the wrong reaction, because Ben pushes further into her dorm, taking a quick glance around before shutting the door behind him as if afraid someone might hear. Then he turns his attention back on her.

“You think this is _funny_?”

She shrugs, still feeling a wide grin plastered on her face. “You know, I kind of do.”

“It’s not _funny,_ Rey. This was my private property. You went into my _room_ and _snooped_ around like a—”

“Woah, woah, woah. First of all,” she cuts in. “I didn’t really _snoop._ I mean, okay. Yes, I was checking out your room— but it was sort of an accident that I found this.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to—”

She cocks her head. “Are you really lecturing me about gross invasion of one’s privacy?” She gestures at the book still in his hands with a pointed nod of her head. “Because there are some things in that book— actually lets be honest, the _whole fucking book_ — that might contradict your little rant of righteous anger here.”

She swears she sees his ears growing red from where they peek out of his wind-swept hair. “That is— I mean that’s why I— look,” he swallows nervously. “That’s why I came to talk to you. It was just… a creative outlet. It didn’t actually… have anything to do with you.”

She feels her brow knit. “Nothing to do with me.”

“Yes,” he stammers on. “It wasn’t… personal.”

“Really?” She makes a face. “Tell that to my little tits, Daddy.”

His eyes go so wide she thinks he might be in shock for a moment. “I— I didn’t— Rey, you have to understand that I—”

“What I _want_ to understand, is why you didn’t just… _say something,”_ she sighs, ending his babbling. “Why do this instead of just… talking to me?”

He stares after her for a long time, working at his lip with his teeth and nearly distracting her. Finally, he blows out a stream of air, running a hand through his hair as he looks away from her. “Because you’re you… and I’m… me.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He huffs out a breath, still not looking at her. “You have no idea, Rey. You can’t possibly know what it’s like to want someone so bad… knowing they could never want you back.”

She feels a little stunned, unsure of what to say to that. It all confirms that Ben has been pining away just as much as she has— and she’s struggling for the accurate words to convey this.

But what comes out of her mouth is, “Such an idiot.”

He _does_ look at her then, brow furrowed and eyes surprised. “Excuse me?”

“For someone _so brilliant—_ you can be a real moron.”

“I think you’ve insulted me quite enough with your little notes and your snide comments— there’s no need to—”

It’s probably too aggressive, the way she rushes to collide with him. It’s probably awkward, the way she tiptoes to grab a fistful of his sweater and yanks him down to her mouth. It _has to be_ a surprise— because for a moment Ben is deathly still, as if trying to discern if it’s actually happening.

But then Rey licks at his lower lip, and it’s like some sort of switch has been flipped. She hears the _thud_ of his book hit her dorm room floor, and then his hands are at her jaw and he’s kissing her like he needs her to _breathe._ It’s messy, and nearly too rough— with the way tongues collide and teeth clack together and she doesn’t even _realize_ he’s got her against a wall until he’s yanking her up into his arms and her legs are wrapping around his waist.

His hands wander like they’ve a mind of their own— moving down her sides to grip her hips as his tongue still seems to be on some divide and conquer mission. It’s _still_ a little too rough— but something about his urgency and his pent-up _need_ leaves her a flustered mess and needing more.

He breaks away gasping— seeming as if coming to his senses a little as he stares at her with wild eyes and mussed hair from where her fingers have been tugging.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he manages a, “What are we doing?”

“Page nineteen, I think.”

He still looks a little stunned. “Did you really touch yourself in my bed?”

She keeps her eyes level on his. “Do you really love me?”

His mouth hangs open for several seconds before a barely-there whisper of, “I do.”

Her smile is shy. “I did.”

“So does this mean that you—”

“Literally since the day we met.”

“Oh.” He looks away from her, his expression a little sad. “I should have said something.”

“I should have too.”

He glances back at her, looking a little less crestfallen by her admission. “Yeah?”

She nods. “Besides… you said… _a lot…_ in your own way.”

He notices her amused expression, and his face splits into an embarrassed grin. “I had… a lot of time to think… about what I might do if…”

His cheeks heat in a blush as he tapers off, and Rey pats his arm as she maneuvers out of his arms and to her feet. “I might be willing to give some of those a whirl.” His eyebrows nearly disappear into his hair so she adds, “Anything from page one to thirty, I think.”

“Rey, we don’t have to—”

He stops trying to tell her what they _don’t have to do_ when she begins to tug at his sweater. “Get this off.”

“What are you—”

She works it over his stomach and urges him to raise his arms. “Honestly, I’m just making sure there’s no tentacles under here. What _is_ it about the tentacles?”

His voice comes out muffled as she finally gets the shirt over his head, just before tugging it off. “Look, it’s just a dumb—”

Her hands are moving over his chest now, and he can’t seem to finish a sentence. “Oh, wow. Okay. No tentacles.” Her fingers curl around his biceps as she runs her hands up and down the length of them. “You really weren’t exaggerating with all the _strong_ _arms_ talk. Fuck, Ben. Is writing that much some sort of workout or something?”

“I—” He can’t stop watching her hands as they work over his skin. “I don’t—” She’s reaching for his jeans now, wondering what else he might have portrayed accurately— but then his hands fly out to grab her wrists. “ _Wait.”_

She cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“This is… this is all just happening so fast, and I—”

“You don’t want this?”

His brow furrows. “No. _No._ That’s not—”

“Because there’s a hundred stories in that book that suggest—”

“Jesus, Rey, will you let me _talk?”_

She tucks her chin to her chest, pursing her lips. “I’m sorry. I’ve just… _not_ been talking to you for so long, and I guess… it’s all just working its way out of me.”

His hands find her jaw— tilting her face as his lips brush over hers softly. “Those stories are… what they are… but they are basically just a summation of the fact that I have thought about you for nearly every second of every day, and I just—” He takes a deep breath. “If this is going to— if _we’re_ going to— I want to remember it. I _need_ to.”

She grins against his mouth. “You could always write it down after.”

“I doubt I could do it justice,” he laughs softly. 

“I don’t know, there was this one near the middle that you—”

He kisses her a little harder, to shut her up she suspects, and his fingers toy with the edge of her shirt as if asking for permission. She breaks away as his hand slides just underneath to brush against her stomach, butterflies flitting around just under his touch as he quietly asks, “Can I?”

Gone is her earlier momentum— the reality that _Ben_ is in her _room_ and he’s _touching_ her and they might—

She manages a shaky nod as he begins to inch her shirt upwards.

She knows she’s not wearing a bra— she’s _never_ wearing a bra, really— but for the first time she’s slightly self-conscious about it. She feels cool air brush along the underside of her breasts, and a tremor of nerves pass through her as she begins to stammer.

“Listen, I _know_ you know that my tits are—”

“Perfect,” he breathes as he tugs her t-shirt over her head, staring at her chest like he’s just found the holy grail.

“But you said—”

He swallows. “I never said it was a bad thing.”

“Oh.”

“Some days I could—” He swallows, casting her a nervous glance. “Some days I could see them. Through your shirt. If you stretched.”

It shouldn’t make her so flushed, imagining him looking. But it does. “And you… liked that?”

He laughs— but it’s off. Self-deprecating, even. “I think that’s obvious.”

“You could… touch me. If you wanted,” she tells him quietly.

“Are you sure? I don’t—”

“Ben.” Suddenly, for whatever reason, she’s _very_ sure. “Touch me.”

She’s still resting against a wall for God’s sake, but it’s lost to the way his hands (they’re so damned _large_ up close) move to close the distance between them. She thinks he will immediately go for the gold— so she finds herself surprised when his fingers brush along her belly instead.

She flinches a little at his touch, still so surprised that this is _happening,_ but strangely not at all unsure. His thumbs skirt over each rib as palms smooth up her side, and she closes her eyes when she feels them trace the curve just under her breast.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters, bewildered. “All that time I— I wanted to—” One wide palm _finally_ covers an entire mound as his thumb tweaks at the nipple of her other. “You’re so goddamned _beautiful_.”

“ _Ah.”_ The little sounds he’s pulling out of her are a little embarrassing. “Wow, that’s—”

He rolls one nipple between his fingers as he experimentally tweaks at it. “Are they sensitive? I read somewhere small breasts are more sensitive.”

“You _read?”_ It would sound more forceful if her sentences didn’t end on a strange little moan. “What do you mean you — _ah.”_

“I wanted to—” He gives a squeeze that’s rougher than before, and Rey gasps in surprise. “I wanted to get it right. The, ah, stories.”

“Well they know their shit.” Her head falls back against the wall— eyes closed and mouth parted. “ _Fuck.”_

“Can I just— there’s something else I’d like to—”

“Show me everything, Danielle Steel,” she manages.

Her eyes flutter open to his strange look, but then his head is ducking and _oh, is he going to—_

“ _Fuck, Ben.”_

She doesn’t _mean_ to shove her fingers into his hair, but the way his voice hums against her nipple clues her in that he doesn’t mind too much.

How in the _hell_ had Ben known she liked having her nipples sucked like this when _she_ hadn’t even known? It’s like some sort of porn precognition.

Holy _fuck—_ his mouth is just— and maybe a bit of teeth? She feels her knees go a little weak as he sloppily tongues at one taut bud before sucking as much as he can fit into his mouth.

She feels a large hand circle around to force her back to arch, pressing into her spine to curve as he begins to emit some low sound that is something like a growl if a growl was wearing a whiny mask.

Even still she feels a new situation happening between her thighs.

Her fingers clench and unclench— needing something to do other than just grip his hair like a lifeline— and she lets them smooth over his shoulders at an attempt at something new.

“Ben, I— can I maybe— _ah.”_

Fuck, the little _pop_ of her nipple as he forcefully detaches from it.

“What?”

His eyes are so _dark_ now, _hooded,_ even— and the breathlessness of his voice—

Rey presses her thighs together a little tighter.

“I want to touch you, too.”

His eyes widen in a way that says he hadn’t even entertained this possibility, and Rey’s chest tightens a little.

“Rey, you don’t—”

“I want to.”

She watches his throat bob before he gives a slow nod. “Okay. How do we—?”

“The bed? I think?” She lets her eyes flick to the little twin bed that she isn’t even sure will hold his massive frame. She briefly wonders how he sleeps in his own dorm. “Here.”

She gently urges him backwards— moving with him until his legs hit the bed and then easing him to sit. Is it too porny to drop to her knees? She briefly consider this as she awkwardly looms over him. There’s no way it would be comfortable to just bend over for that long— maybe she should—

“You really don’t have to,” Ben mutters.

“Hm?” She glances up to meet his anxious expression, only momentarily distracted by the worried imprint of his teeth against his bottom lip. “No. I want to. I do. I’m just— I don’t know—” She takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

She drops to her knees with a little too much force. _Wow, that’s not very sexy._ She tries to over-correct by tugging at the button of his jeans— but she’s distracted by the little trail of hair just under his navel that disappears into the now-gapped denim. It’s not even something she’s ever considered being attracted to— but now she can’t stop staring at it.

“Rey, seriously, I don’t want you to think—”

“I’ve never seen one.”

“What?”

She gestures to the stretched denim of his zipper. “Not except porn.”

His mouth falls open. “You watch porn?”

“Tell me _you_ aren’t porn-shaming me.”

“No, I just—” He clenches his lips together. “That’s a very nice image.”

She grins. “I sort of like imagining you hunched over your little book writing Reyrotica.”

“Oh my God.” He rubs his hands down his face. “What is happening.”

“I’m trying to get your cock out but I’m nervous.”

He pulls his hands away. “You are?”

“I’m _so_ fucking nervous.”

He blows out a slow breath. “Me too.”

“Really?”

“Rey, I…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I’ve never, ah… seen one either.”

“You’ve never seen a dick outside of porn before?”

“What? No. _No._ I mean— well, yes. Except mine.” He shakes his head. “I just mean that… me too.”

“Oh. _Oh._ So you’ve never…?”

She doesn’t miss the way his ears flush red as they peek out of his hair. “No.”

“Oh my God, Ben. You wrote… _so much porn.”_

“I didn’t exactly have an alternative outlet for my feelings.”

“Wow.” It isn’t lost on her that she’s topless and kneeling between his legs casually having this conversation. “Wow, that… weirdly makes me so happy.”

“That weirdly makes me a lot less nervous.”

There’s a slow beat between them— one where it fully hits her she’s still half-naked and he’s still _hard._

“I still want to touch you,” she tells him quietly.

“You can literally do anything you want to me, Rey.”

She bites back a shy grin as she reaches for his zipper, looking up to watch his face as she pulls it down. She isn’t even sure he’s _breathing._ She can see the tight black fabric inside _straining_ with the weight of him. She’s always told herself that porn stars are not an attainable goal when imagining how she might lose her virginity— but _Ben—_ Ben might not even need to take this thing out to rid her of it.

“Holy shit,” she breathes. “Okay. So at least you didn’t exaggerate.” She tugs at his jeans, but they won’t go any further with the way he’s sitting. “Lift up?”

He tilts his hips as she pulls them over his thighs (Jesus, even his _thighs_ are huge), and when she moves to repeat the process with his boxer briefs— _neither_ of them are breathing.

“Holy _shit.”_

Ben just watches her as she stares at this insanely large thing that juts upwards four inches from her face. That’s supposed to go _inside_ her? It looks… angry.

She wonders what it feels like.

Her fingers reach out tentatively, and she doesn’t necessarily _mean_ to press her tongue to the edge of her lip— it’s more of an unconscious tic, really— but the sharp intake of breath from Ben sends a fluttering feeling to her belly.

It’s a lot softer than she thought it would be. The phrase _velvet steel_ comes to mind— but that’s more than likely a direct result of too many harlequins.

Even if it’s fairly accurate.

Ben just watches this tentative brush of her fingers— pupils blown open so that his eyes appear black and abdomen tensed to a point that she can count every ridge there.

“Do you… touch yourself a lot?”

Ben’s reply is a little tense. “What?”

“Like this,” she murmurs, wrapping her fingers around him to give a testing stroke. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” he admits breathily.

“Do you think about me?”

He groans. “ _All the time.”_

“So do I.”

The sound that comes out of him sounds painful. “Could you— would it be okay if you—”

She’s a little distracted now by the way his skin moves under her hand. Not to mention the shiny bead of liquid that leaks from the tip. She briefly wonders what it tastes like.

“Could you be naked too?”

“Can I use my mouth?”

They stare at each other— having spoken at the same time.

“You want me naked?”

“You want to use your mouth?”

Now it’s getting awkward.

“I do,” Rey cuts in before he can speak again. “But I can get naked for it.”

She pushes on his thighs to bring herself to a standing position, and he’s just staring at her as she pushes her sweats down her thighs with her underwear in tow.

“ _Holy shit,”_ Ben whispers reverently.

She can’t help but smile. At least they’re on the same wavelength.

He still looks stunned as Rey sinks back to her knees. He doesn’t seem to come out of his daze until she’s touching him again— hissing between his teeth as she fists him.

“Rey… if you use your mouth I’m going to come.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

He swallows. “I’m going to come… _very_ fast.”

She considers this. She can’t blame him, she supposes. He’s hardly even touched her, and she feels strangely keyed up by this whole thing. Plus, isn’t this supposed to feel really good for him? She hates that porn is her only reference. She actually _really_ likes the idea of making him feel good.

“That’s okay,” she tells him. “I still want to.”

Now she just has to figure out how to approach it. Does she just… lick it? Suck on it like a popsicle? She doesn’t really think she’s up for any of those deep-throating shenanigans.

She decides to work her way up, leaning in to press her tongue to the underside of his cock. _Oh_. He feels soft like this too. She presses a little harder— catching that rigidness just beneath the velvet skin.

“ _Fuck.”_

 _Oh._ She likes that. His voice is deeper now. Tighter, even. She likes knowing she did that.

She swipes up the entirety of his length only to crest over the head, and when she wraps her lips around him— she is rewarded with a hissed _fuckfuckfuck_ — and she definitely likes this too.

She isn’t sure what she expected him to taste like, but she isn’t put off by slight taste of salt and warmth and just _him._

She finds out quickly she can’t possibly get down to the base of him— _for God’s sake he’s like an overripe cucumber here—_ but if she wraps her fist there instead, she can _just_ about reach it.

“Holy fucking shit, Rey.” His voice wasn’t meant for a whine, it’s too deep, too guttural— but the fact that she can reduce him to this— it might be hotter than any bit of porn Ben has put to paper. She wonders if he might agree with her. “Your mouth is—” His fingers are in her hair now, but she doesn’t mind. “I’m _seriously_ going to come.”

She thinks she might even feel it. It’s in the way he swells and the way his cock gives little twitches against her tongue. She remembers one saucy bit of fiction from the book— and suddenly she is struck with inspiration.

She draws back up his length as artfully as she can— sucking a little harder as this seems to get more of a reaction and enjoying the strangled moan that escapes him as his grip in her hair tightens. It is only when a series of choked sounds begin to emit in rapid succession does she finally pull away— keeping a firm grip around his cock and even squeezing a little as they both watch the hot fluid land directly on her chest with wide eyes. 

And it just _keeps coming._

There is… _so_ much of it. She feels it dripping to coat her nipples and his cock _pulses_ in her hand and it should be _so gross_ but she’s _incredibly_ wet from this and she doesn’t know who is more surprised.

When he is finally still ( _how is he still hard?)—_ his chest is flushed red and coated with a thin sheen of sweat and he’s breathing _so hard_ and his eyes have this _dreamy_ look about them and Rey is _very_ wet now.

She watches enraptured as his hand brushes down the side of her face to trace her jaw and then just _keeps going._ He presses two fingers into the sticky heat over her breasts and draws some indiscernible pattern there as he watches in a daze.

“Did that… really just happen?”

She swallows. “If the mess on my chest is any indication…”

He seems to remember himself then. “Oh my God. Oh my _God. Rey._ I’m so sorry. I’m _so_ sorry. I can’t believe I—” He tries to stand abruptly, nearly knocking her backwards. “Let me just find a— I’m so sorry, I’ll—”

She grabs for her discarded t-shirt and hastily cleans herself off. “It’s okay. Really. It was… actually pretty hot.”

He reaches to help her up. She can’t stop watching the way his cock bobs when he does so. She also can’t help the gasp that slips out when he pulls her to his chest. She can _feel_ him between her thighs. Against her stomach.

“Rey, I—” His eyes rake over her face. “I can _definitively_ say I didn’t expect this turn of events.”

She’s staring at his chest distractedly. “Mhm.”

“Rey.” She blinks as she turns her head up to look at him. “I don’t… have anything.”

She cocks her head in confusion, frowning a little, until it hits her. “Oh. _Oh.”_

Everything is so much more _awkward_ during the lull parts. No one really talks about that. She wishes romance novels had prepared her for the _birth control_ talk.

“I’m uh, on the pill. Like, religiously. So um, if you wanted to—”

He makes a pained face. “I’m going to come again.”

“I kind of liked it when you did the first time.”

He ducks down to kiss her like it’s a necessity— hands cradling her jaw as he twitches against her stomach.

Then he’s reaching— hands cupping her ass as he hoists her to his chest and _fuck—_ she could really get used to this whole hoisting business. Lord knows he has the arms for it.

He lays her over her twin bed gently, almost as if he’s afraid of breaking her— and isn’t that ironic considering that monstrous thing he’s about to stick inside her?

Except she’s a little excited about that part.

Nervous, but excited.

He settles his weight over her as he leans on his elbows, using a hand to smooth the hair away from her face as he studies it briefly.

“I know you know this,” he starts. “But I have… thought about this… for a very long time.” He tilts his head so that his forehead rests against hers, and her eyes flutter closed when she feels the warm weight of his cock settle between her thighs. “I should have said something sooner.”

“You said that,” she murmurs.

“I still want to kick my own ass over it. I was such a coward.”

She lifts her head a fraction to brush her lips over his. “You’ll just have to make it up to me.”

“How are you so… fucking _perfect?”_

“Little tits and all?”

“I’m going to pay for that for a long time, aren’t I?”

She grins as her palms smooth up his chest between them. “Today was an excellent start to the groveling process. I would say that I would retaliate somehow in my own fictional works that are yet to be written, but not so unfortunately— I can’t find one small thing about you to exploit.”

He melts into her kiss with a soft sound before he breaks away slowly. “Is this crazy? We haven’t— _I haven’t—_ and it just seems… _crazy._ Right?”

“Maybe,” she admits. “But I guess… you can’t watch someone for so long… can’t _want them_ for that long… without falling a little bit in love with them.”

“I don’t know anything,” he whispers incredulously. “Anything about you that’s important.”

“Well I know _all_ the important things,” she says matter-of-factly. “I mean… _tentacles,_ Ben.”

His face splits open in a grin, and she loops her arms around his neck to kiss him. Her mirth dissipates into something warmer— feeling the shifting of his hips and the nudge of his cock through her wet folds, and her labored breath matches his now.

This isn’t how she imagined it would go, but then again— you can’t really plan for porn diaries and secret crushes and worlds tilting on their axis all at once.

“Rey,” he groans. “Do you want me to— or maybe you—”

She reaches between them, finding his cock as he leans up to try and watch as she helps him line up with her entrance. She feels the head of him catch there— both of them holding their breath, and Ben looks back at her to hold her gaze as she nods softly.

Her mouth falls open when the head of him slips inside, his big body giving a shudder as his head lolls forward to bury in her hair. “ _Oh my God.”_

“Ben,” she groans. He’s so _big—_ and it is only at this moment that she fully recognizes just how _small_ she is. “ _Ben.”_

“Do you— _fuck,”_ he chokes out. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No. _No,”_ she sighs. “It’s just— God, Ben, you’re fucking _huge.”_

She swears she feels a twitch inside her. “I know I shouldn’t feel… _fantastic_ when you say that, but—”

She grits her teeth. “I’ll let you have this one.”

“Are you okay? Should I—”

“I’m okay,” she manages. “Just… go slow.” He pushes forward another inch, and there’s a flash of pain as she cries out a little. “ _Fuck.”_

“I’m sorry,” he says tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head, eyes screwed shut. “Don’t— just be still. Just for a second.”

He nods into her hair, his body going deathly still. She doesn’t know how many seconds it takes for the sting to ebb— but eventually it gives way to some strange fullness that is… anything but unpleasant.

“I think you can—” Her hands move under his shoulders to hold him there. “You can keep going.”

It’s still tight— just short of _too tight_ — but she closes her eyes as he fills her, as she feels him so deep it is _almost_ uncomfortable.

But she’s so _full._ Her body stretched around him and pressed under him and this is _actually happening._ If she weren’t feeling everything that she’s feeling, she might not believe it.

“Rey, you— _fucking hell, Rey—_ you feel— I can’t believe— _fuck.”_ She isn’t sure if _fuck_ is a sentiment but it’s sure as hell one she agrees with. He shifts his hips— only a _fraction,_ but it makes her breath catch all the same. “Is it awful for you?”

“No,” she breathes, and she _means it,_ she finds. “No, it’s—” She tilts her pelvis to feel that shift of him inside her again. “It’s actually sort of amazing.”

“Can you put that on a voice note later?” He groans. “Or just… say it… forever?”

She giggles a little as he lifts up to look at her. “Are you trying to get material for your next story?”

“I think there’s something… I’d rather be doing than writing.”

“But you haven’t even made me _meow_ yet.”

He groans, resting his forehead to hers. “I’m _really_ trying not to come here.”

“Do you want to move?”

Another groan, smaller this time. “I’m literally _terrified_ I will come if I move.”

“Here.” She snakes a hand between them. “Lift up a little, and I’ll help.”

“Oh my God,” he whimpers. “Are you touching yourself?”

“If it’s a race, I want to be in on it.”

She presses her fingers into her clit as Ben tries to arch his back to watch it happen between them. “ _Fuck.”_

“You can move now.” She presses a kiss into his jaw as she starts to rub a steady pattern into her clit. “ _Move,_ Ben.”

They both gasp as he pulls out slow— the sensation somehow both retreating _and_ filling as her inner walls grip him tight.

“Holy shit, Rey.”

“Don’t come yet,” she begs. “I want to come with you.”

“I’m— _really_ trying.”

“Can you talk like your book?”

He huffs out a breath as he pushes back inside. “What?”

“ _Ah—_ your book. Like, the way you talked about me. You used the c-word a lot.”

“The _c-word?”_ He withdraws a little slower this time. He might be shaking. She feels a tension begin to build as she steadily swipes at her clit. His voice is an embarrassed whisper as he clarifies with, “Cunt?”

She shivers all over. It’s _so_ much different hearing it from his own mouth. “Keep talking like that.”

“You want me to—” His hand curls around her hips as he pushes back inside with a little more force. “You want me to talk about your... cunt?”

It’s her turn to whimper now. Even if he whispered the last word as if still embarrassed. “Keep going.”

She can’t really describe the sound that emits from him— but she thinks it means he likes it. “It’s so much tighter than I imagined. And _warm._ God, Rey— I could _live_ in your cunt.”

“Oh God,” she chokes out. He says it with a little more force this time. Like he’s realizing what it’s doing to her. “Keep talking like that.”

He kisses at her jaw as he drifts toward her ear. “I’ve thought about fucking this cunt. About what my cock would feel like inside you.”

God, his cock aside, this is better than any porn she’s ever indulged in. She wonders if she could get off from his voice alone. She might have to try this sometime. “Does it feel good, Ben?”

“Rey,” he grinds out— sliding in and out of her quickly now. “Nothing has or ever _will_ feel as good as this perfect cunt. I’m trying so hard not to come but I _want to._ I want to know my cum is deep inside you. I want to know you’re full of me. _Fuck._ I want to keep you full of me for _days.”_

It’s right there— a compact pressure that feels like it’s been compressed into an infuriating little space that _begs_ to be released and she’s making these ridiculous sounds she never thought she’d make and every swipe of her fingers makes her _clench_ even though there’s simply _no where to go_ for the way he fills her up and he’s still murmuring these _filthy_ things in her ear and she almost can’t take it.

“Ben. _Ben._ Oh my God. I think I’m— just like that— _please, I—”_

She can’t say who comes first. There’s a gush of warmth inside— but it’s nearly lost to the blinding sparks of hot pleasure that course through her to a point that she feels it pounding in her ears. She can tell he’s trying not to crush her— balancing on his forearms as these strange grunts leave him that oddly make her stomach flutter even now.

Still, she can feel the sweat of his skin slide against hers and it’s gritty and odd and yet _immensely_ satisfying and she doesn’t know what she imagined sex to be like but she has _definitely_ been made a fan.

At least with Ben.

He’s slumped over her, trying to catch his breath even as his cock still gives little twitches inside her. She lazily presses kisses into his cheek, his jaw, up to his ear— possibly enjoying this languid _after_ nearly as much as the actual thing.

“I’m going to wake up any second.” She feels his lips at her shoulder, mouthing there. “I’m going to wake up and have fallen asleep at the damned journal.”

Rey laughs. “Has that happened before?”

“I wish I could tell you it hasn’t,” he sighs.

“Well,” she starts flippantly. “Maybe if you do it enough times you’ll realize it’s not a dream.”

He groans as his arms tighten around her, and then with a little maneuvering he’s on his back and she’s draped over his chest and he’s still _sort of_ inside her but he’s just staring at her face and it’s all sort of perfect in its own way.

His mouth turns down in a frown. “I wasted a lot of time.”

“You did sort of rob me of my dream of losing it in the backseat after prom,” she chides playfully. “Although I’m not sure how you’d have fit in the backseat of my Corolla, so maybe this is for the best.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” she goes on, tracing a finger just under his chin. “I didn’t say anything either. We were both stupid about the whole thing.”

His eyes crinkle then, and she realizes that today has been the first time he’s smiled at her like this. She wants to make sure he never does anything else.

“I want to know every single thing about you that I don’t,” he urges. “And then I want to do that again.”

“Is now a good time to tell you that I secretly _adore_ tentacles?”

He rolls his eyes. “One day I’ll have to get something on you.”

“I’ll write my own porn and let you critique all my dirty little fantasies.”

He grins. “I think I’d rather act them out.”

“Okay,” she shrugs. “How do you feel about maid costumes? Think they make them in your size?”

He beams as he pulls her closer— his lips crashing over hers as a forceful kiss turns slow and a playful mood becomes decidedly _less_ playful and holy _fuck_ how is he getting hard again?

“Do you—” She swallows. “Do you maybe want to change the order a little? Learn everything, um, _after?”_

He’s still smiling even as he leaves a lingering kiss at her mouth. “Yeah. I really would.”

She wonders how long she should wait until she reveals she isn’t kidding about the maid outfit— but then his hands smooth over her hips and his pelvis tilts _just a little_ and on second thought—

It can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed I upped the chapter count. Chapter 4 is a short epilogue and chapter 5 is something very special. 😉


	4. Make Me Meow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, this is probably my favorite story I’ve ever done. Ya’ll loving it too just warms my black little heart. 
> 
> Here’s a short little epilogue!

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be used to her walking into a room like this. 

Looking for  _ him.  _ Smiling at  _ him.  _

She beams when she spots him saving her seat in the third row, and he pulls his backpack out of it so she can slide in just as the professor shoots her a disapproving look for being late. 

Not to mention the other thing.

He gives her a look, cocking an eyebrow and gesturing to the top of her head. Rey just leans on her fist as she gives him a coy grin, batting her eyelashes innocently. 

Her teasing is something he’ll never get used to either. 

He rolls his eyes as he reaches into his backpack, pulling out his notebook and casting a surreptitious glance at the professor who has turned to the whiteboard. 

He scratches out a note, pushing the notebook over to her as she grins down at the page.

She pulls out her own pen, hunching over the notebook to scrawl (but actually, her handwriting is definitely not the reason he fell in love with her) an answering note. She pushes it back, and he can’t help but roll his eyes.

He shoots her a disgruntled look, but Rey only winks at him. He shakes his head as he jots down another.

She wrinkles her brow just before raising an eyebrow at him, but then she grins wickedly while scratching out a reply and pushing the notebook back.

His head whips around just as she reaches beneath her to pull out a soft-looking tail that she strokes from base to tip. Ben is pretty sure his mouth is hanging open, and he has to try and swallow around the dry lump that now resides in his throat. 

His grip on the pen is fairly tight now.

She huffs out a quiet little chuckle as she reads his response, turning her head and hiding her face behind her hand. She blows him a kiss, and the back of his mind is reminding him that he actually  _ needs  _ to pay attention to this class, but it’s overridden by his  _ girlfriend  _ (he’s not sure if he’ll ever be used to  _ that  _ either) flirting with him in the middle of class.

Her answering note is fairly to the point.

He blows out a breath, his cock twitching in his jeans, and he knows this is  _ not  _ the time for it. But it’s a little too late— already picturing the beginnings of a new story. 

_ Rey in a collar and she’s just  _ begging  _ for cream… _

She must notice his dazed look, because he feels a nudge at his arm as she pushes his notebook back into view. He hadn’t even noticed her pull it away.

He quickly replies before pushing it back.

She cocks an eyebrow in disbelief before she responds.

He purses his lips as he writes back.

She gives him a slow grin, looking him up and down in a way that makes him squirm a little in his seat. He tries his very best not to look guilty, but he thinks maybe he’s failing.

His chest gets a little tight. Not to mention his pants. He sends up a prayer of thanks for denim — any other fabric would make his current state  _ very  _ obvious. He bites his lip as he casts her a nervous glance, but she’s still grinning at him. 

She doesn’t even take the book from him, just leans over the table in a way that causes her arm to brush against his hand and it’s not even  _ dirty  _ but he’s ridiculously turned on now and he’s not even  _ upset  _ about it. 

He frowns, feeling a little chastised. She peeks up at him with a playful expression, adding something to her note.

Ben blows out a breath. He’s never skipped a class in his entire  _ life —  _ but he’s considering it now. He swallows  _ hard, _ trying desperately to ignore the stiffness of his cock. Trying not to think about what he’ll do to rectify this situation when he inevitably has to stand up. 

He casts her one last anxious look, jotting down a reply before he slowly slides it back. 

Her smile falters a little, her throat bobbing slightly as she cuts her eyes to him. Then her lips curl as her pen touches the paper.

She’s smiling as he reads this though, and he can’t help but return it with a sheepish grin of his own. She leans over again to add to it, and he feels heat creep up his neck.

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ It  _ cannot  _ be alright that he’s  _ this  _ hard underneath a desk. It  _ can’t  _ be. He has to bite back a groan. There’s still some strangled sound that escapes his throat. Like a whimper, almost. He doesn’t even mind.

Her smile is sweet then, that blissful look on her face that she gets every time he tells her. He will absolutely  _ never  _ get tired of it. 

He’s lucky. He’s so fucking  _ lucky.  _ He could fill up a  _ thousand  _ pages trying to explain how much. He’s grinning down at his notebook, most likely looking like a complete idiot, but he doesn’t even care. 

He only comes back to reality when the notebook slides away, Rey flipping the page to a fresh one as she scribbles again only to push it back.

He sucks in a breath, turning his head to catch her wink as she turns back to the front to listen to whatever the professor is saying. Ben just stares at the side of her face for a few moments, trying to figure out just what he did to deserve this perfect creature. 

He may never know, he’s not even sure if it  _ matters. _

Because she loves him. For whatever reason, she fucking  _ loves  _ him. 

That’s more than enough for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have one more “epilogue” of sorts, but it will mostly be... visual. 🙃


	5. Lucky Son Of A Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone still reading this?? I’m sorry it took me so long to add the last epilogue. 😭❤️

He’s staring down at the little composition book she’s left for him, just a _little_ nervous to look inside.  

 _A birthday present_ , she’d called it. 

After almost a year together, he’s learned that he can’t predict anything about Rey.  

Not that he’s complaining. 

He’s sitting at his desk—just holding the thin book between his fingers and chewing on his lower lip. He has a pretty good idea about what is waiting for him between these pages, but he isn’t sure if he’s entirely ready for it yet. If she’s done what he thinks she has… if what’s written here is—if she— 

He has no idea how he’ll survive it.  

He takes a deep breath before slowly cracking open the book, turning to the first page where his suspicions are thoroughly confirmed.

Oh, God. He’d been pretty sure—but knowing he’s holding a book, even a thin one such as this, _full_ of porn that his incredibly tempting girlfriend wrote, wrote about _them—_ he will definitely not survive this. He’s equal parts eager and anxious now, and he flips to the first story as fast as humanly possible.

He admittedly skims over it rather quickly—too excited to see what sort of things she’s come up with—and he thinks perhaps he should have at least _somewhat_ seen the first one coming. Sure, he’s shifting in his seat because _Rey_ wrote this—but still, he’s also rolling his eyes a little because:

He lets out a sigh even as he feels his cock stirring in his jeans. He doesn’t know what it is about this particular fantasy that grips Rey like it does—for God’s sake there isn’t any way he’d actually look _attractive_ in that ridiculous outfit—but obviously she is still very much thinking about it.

He thinks to himself that at least he is afforded the opportunity now to get his due revenge—her words completely at his mercy. 

He shakes his head even as he imagines Rey—legs spread wide and commanding him to clean her with his tongue. A full-body shiver passes through him, not as opposed to the idea as he probably should be. Hell, he’d even _wear_ the damned thing if they could actually find one to fit his frame… but still. He eagerly turns to the next story like an addict looking for a fix.

He squirms in his seat, his mind now filled with Rey in black and red leather, leaning over him with that look in her eye she sometimes gets when she’s feeling a little more _take charge_. He admittedly… _loves_ when she feels that way. 

How she survived this escapade when she’d found his journal he’ll never know. His thoughts drift then about her final note in his book, admitting that she’d touched herself in his bed (a thought that he could probably _still_ get himself off to if he tried hard enough), and he thinks maybe she didn’t make it through any better than he is now.  

Because he wants to touch himself _very_ badly. 

So far her stories are a little less… eloquent than his (if he does say so himself), but even thinking it he begins to chastise himself because is it really anything to be proud of—being _practiced_ at writing secret porn about someone? 

Probably not.

Even with his critique he’s still incredibly hard, somehow just the knowledge that she sat alone, writing these words about _them—_ he can’t even describe how much of a turn-on it is. It’s better than any porn he’s ever experienced. 

He turns to the next story, using every bit of the will power that he possesses not to reach down and palm himself. Wanting so badly to do as she’s asked.

Fucking hell. 

He’s thinking about her ass now. Her perfect ass that’s round and freckled—bent over and waving at him—her pretty little cunt on full display between her legs, wet and swollen and _begging_ for him to fill her up. Begging for him to—

_Fuck._

He can’t help it. He reaches to press his hand to his denim-clad cock, and the relief is instant, and yet it leaves him needing so much _more._ This story is definitely… a little more… stimulating. 

He draws his hand away with effort, not wanting to go against what Rey asked, even if he thinks it might kill him. 

He takes a deep breath, turning over to another page and wondering how in the hell he will get through all of these without getting himself off.

He outwardly groans. He should have known he was not going to get by without enduring this. He’s a little on the fence about the whole _bend over_ part—something they haven’t actually tried yet. He balks a little at his mental usage of _yet._ As if he might be open to it. He tries to imagine Rey behind him, or even _above_ him—strapped up and harnessed and telling him to _take it_ and—

He realizes he’s barely even thinking about the tentacles now—content that he assumes was what she intended him to really home in on. 

What is she _doing_ to him?

It’s a total lie, but it’s as much note-making as he can muster right now. 

He’s so fucking _hard._

His brain hardly even allows him to linger on anything else besides the straining tent of his pants, and he turns the page quickly to keep reading.

Okay, that’s what confuses him a little bit. He assumes he’s missing some sort of crucial information regarding this particular trope—but he can’t help but appreciate her dedication to branching out beyond what she’d read in his own journal. 

He lingers a few moments before turning to another story, trying to will himself to calm down enough so that he doesn’t make a mess inside his pants. He’s eager to get to the end, to go and find Rey and take whatever surprise she has waiting for him after this, but at the same time he is reluctant to finish—so overwhelmingly turned on by this experience and grateful that she would even go this far for him in the first place.

For what has to be the millionth time since he first frantically knocked on her dorm room door all those months ago—Ben thinks to himself that he really is a lucky son of a bitch. 

Even if he’s about to come in his pants like a fourteen year old. 

His fingers are shaking a little as he turns to another page.

He’s breathing so hard she can probably hear it from wherever she’s waiting for him in the little apartment they share now—his grip on the pen he’s holding so tight he fears it might snap at any given moment. His dick is going to break his fucking zipper for how hard it is. He’s torn between wanting to consume every word in this motherfucking book and stalking off to find her and fuck her senseless over whatever surface he can reach first. 

He lays the pen down gently, breath still leaving him in heavy expulsions, trying to collect himself before he even attempts to continue. He closes his eyes—his mind full of images of Rey in every imaginable porny situation he can think of—and he doesn’t think a hundred years would be enough time to do all the things he wants to do to her. 

His hands shake and his body trembles and his _cock_ is practically _throbbing_ and he just wants to—

Small hands creep over his shoulders, and Ben nearly jumps out of his skin at the contact—having not heard her enter over his own breathing and the racing of his own heart.  

“R-Rey?”

He can’t see her yet, but her voice is warm and soft against his ear. “I got tired of waiting. Are you enjoying your present?”

He grits his teeth. “You have no idea.”

“What do you say you finish reading it later?”

He swallows thickly. “Do I still get my surprise if I stop here?”

She steps around him, moving to sit against the edge of his desk as all the air in his lungs leaves him in a rush. She’s wearing an outfit of black silk and white ruffles—the bodice tight and low-cut, accentuating the swell of her breasts so that they’re hoisted and straining and _begging_ for his mouth. The skirt is so short he’s certain he could see right between her legs if she were to open them just a _little_ —and resting against her hair is a frilly little cap that brings the whole thing together. 

All she’s missing is a fucking _feather duster,_ and it isn’t his fantasy, isn’t even something he thought he _wanted,_ but _—_  

“ _Fuck,_ Rey.”

His hands are on her in an instant, pressing against the soft silk at her waist, moving to run over the stockings stretched over her thighs, drifting higher to tease her pretty little tits that are straining against the neckline. 

“Turns out they had _my_ size at least,” she purrs. “That’s something, right?”

“That’s…” His eyes drink in every part of her, and it’s amazing. _She’s_ amazing. She’s fucking _perfect. “_ That’s… definitely something.”

“So what do you say?” She runs a heeled toe between his legs, bringing it up to tease at the denim that is the only thing keeping him from fucking _exploding._ “Think you can finish later? Because I'd like to finish you now, I think.” 

He’s nodding before she’s even done speaking, and he’s out of his chair and practically throwing her over his shoulder as she squeals only moments after that. 

“Yes,” he growls. “I can finish later.”

“So what did you think of the tentacles?”

He doesn’t answer, landing a swat over her ass instead. He hears her giggle, his hands already wandering up the back of her obscene little skirt—and he’s reminded all over again of the only thought that’s been an absolute constant since she first barreled headfirst into his life.

He is absolutely, utterly, _unquestionably—_ a lucky son of bitch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for following along! This is the most fun I have had writing in a long time. 😍 (Of course, it’s so silly. 😂)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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